Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1887-03-12


locked the door; and the poor girl heard
him pacing the floor, moaning and sobbing,
and talking incoherently to himself. On
| the 22d Of April he took to his bed, sick,
| with decided symptoms of cerebral fever.
My task had now begun In earnest. !
put all my patients except the most urgent
cases in the hands of q brother physician,
and devoted myself as closely as possible
| to Raymond. The time had now come,
| too, when his betrothed-for Jeanne was
such-had a right TO be told his whole sto-
| ryj and told her. True, brave woman that
| she was, the recital only provoked her
sympathy, and augmented her devotion.
With me she watched assiduously at his
bedside, patient, loving, hopeful, but al.
most overcome with grief.
Let me spare these details. To my pro-
fessional eyes the fever that had Frustrated
Raymond was as much a puzzle as was the
terror that had affected him. He was
slightly but rarely delirious. He lay, much
of the time, in a kindof stupor, from which
he would occasionally arouse with q flash of
intelligence and recognition, to be immedi-
ately followed by wild incoherence. Yet l
felt, through it all, that his illness was not
dangerous. So sure of that was l that /
called no council. The sixth day came,
and he was so decidedly improved that i
felt certain that twenty four hours more
would witness his convalescence. And the
morrow was the fateful 29th of April.
A sudden inspiration seized me. Why
was it not possible, by an appeal to the
practical, common-sense side of this young
INNS nature, to convince him that he was
the victim of mental delusion? What If
l could persuade him that the day of doom
was q week past, at the very time that its
pendulum beats were sounding in his ears?
Would not that test convince him at once
that imagination and fright we're at the root
| of his trouble?
determined to make the effort. News
papers, calendars, literature of all kinds,
everything that could in any way mark the
lapse of time, were banished from the cham
Der. On the morning of that momentous
day we were all sitting by his bed. Jeanne
held his hand. His eyes opened with life
| and intellect in them. A faint smile illu-
mined his wan face as he saw his beloved,
and she bent over and kissed him. He
looked at her mother, evidently recogniz-
ing her. Then his eyes rested inquiringly
on my face, and from the expression of has
face l saw that he wished to speak to me.
l bent my head near to his lips.
"What hour is it; Doctor" he whispered.
almost nine in the morning."
What day of the week."
Friday"
He looked full in my eye, with a most
searching look. Strange" l heard him
mutter. That day comes on Wednesday
| this year."
For moment he lay silent. His eyes
| were closed, but the agitation of his face
| showed me that he was summoning his
| strength for another question. He opened
| his eyes; it came.
"What day of the month";"
"The Sth of May. You have been sick
more than two weeks" Z.
He stared at me, shuddered, and by an
exertion which would have thought i'm
| possible for one in his condition, sat up
right in bed.
mo, no." he whispered hoarsely, Il can
| not be deceived; that horrible shadow is
| creeping over me again. l feel it see it!
This-this is the 29th of April.'
May God forbid that / should witness
again such hideous mental torment as
| afflicted that poor soul during the remain
| ing hours of that day! His limbs and body
| were rigid as those of the cataleptic; his
eyes ranged piteously from one face to an
| other; his teeth were set; his breath came
| in gasps between them. What, i'll those
| hours of mortal terror, did he see beyond
| the abyss which we could not see? What
| did he feel that was intangible to our dull
sense?
After that day he grew steadily better in
| bodily health, and the middle of May found
him able to descend the stairs, with Jeanne's
| help. Something of his old cheerful
ness came back and l hoped that, under
the girls loving care, he might yet be won
| back to mental health. Yet it was plain to
| see that the shadow was still upon him.
| Sitting by her side, talking with her OF
| listening to her reading from favorite
| book, sometimes noticed his eyes falling
| in apathy, and sometimes he would start as
| if in terror at the opening of door or
| some noise from the street. l observed
| Jeanne quite as closely as Raymond, and
could not but admire the heroism with
| which she repressed her grief and strove to
| win him back from the shadows.
On the LIST of June he disappeared. He
| did not appear at breakfast; his bed had
| not been slept in, though he had gone up
| little else but search for him. The police
| could find no trace of him; cautiously
| worded personals in the papers met with
| no response; Doctor Bland, telegraphed at
| Boston, replied that he had not seen him,
| and could hear nothing of him. l was
| firmly persuaded that he had destroyed
| himself, until it was discovered that he
| had drawn thousand dollars at his bank
ers the day before his disappearance.
| Over the heartrending grief OF his be-
| trothed let us draw the veil. Thee weeks
| passed, and then, just as We were retiring
| for the night, We heard latch key rafting
| in the door. In a moment Raymond
| Wager was among us. He was pale of
| face, thin, and careworn. His eyes were
| restless. His clothes were disordered, and
| his whole appearance careless and forlorn.